


Happy Holidays, You Bastard

by caswella



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswella/pseuds/caswella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is halfway crazy by now, listening to holiday music cheer and getting caught behind slow people and hordes of teenagers. There’s a reason he hates the mall and tries to avoid it by any means possible. </p><p>Today is not one of those days, all because he’s dating some beautiful bastard with soft hair and green eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Holidays, You Bastard

He takes note of the dead fish eyed woman ringing the bell, the sad red Salvation Army bucket besides her looking pathetic and a festering pile of festive.

Jean is halfway crazy by now, listening to holiday music cheer and getting caught behind slow people and hordes of teenagers. There’s a reason he hates the mall and tries to avoid it by any means possible.

Today is not one of those days, all because he’s dating some beautiful bastard with soft hair and green eyes.

The list of things Jean would do for Eren Jaeger is uncomfortably long.

That brings him to here, sweaty and irritated, walking around the city mall, trying to find a present that Eren would like.

He doesn’t know why Eren is so hard to shop for; if anything, the son of a bitch should be the easiest to shop for. They’ve been dating for a year, known each other for nine; you would think he would be the best candidate to know what Eren would appreciate the most. Sadly, he’s lacking in any useful knowledge. Instead he feels like he’s left floundering. Everyone else he has already bought for, did so months beforehand, when the malls weren’t chalk a block full of slow walkers and gaggles of teens

Why Eren is so hard to shop for is still a mystery to Jean, so he decides to try his luck at someone better suited for the task.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you Jean; I already bought my present for Eren.”

Armin gives Jean a pitying look while sipping from his peppermint latte. That was one of the few things Jean didn’t mind about the holidays; the coffee flavours.

“You can’t give me any hint as to what he’s been looking at on Pinterest and Tumblr while he’s been at work?”

“Is that what he’s been doing? I got him that job at the front desk for a reason-“

“Ah, well, I meant in general?”

Sorry babe.

Sighing, Armin rolls his eyes. Jean can’t help but feel slightly offended at the gesture. He decides to go for broke, desperation breaking through his tone.

“Look, Eren has always been hard to shop for, even when he was younger. I’ve gotten by with shitty hallmark cards and gag gifts till this point. The only difference now is that we’ve been together for a little over a year and I don’t intend to give him a blow job like I did for his birthday.”

The look on Armin’s face is abject horror. Maybe he didn’t need to know about the birthday blowjob.

Around them the food court was abuzz, but silence stretches between the two of them.

Before things could get any more awkward Armin clears his throat and takes another prolonged sip of his coffee, professional looking and composed, unlike Jean.

“I’m sorry Jean, I really can’t help you. I’m sure it’s more the thought that counts, right?”

Jean almost rips his hair out.

He’s drinking his inaugural ‘contemplation’ beer; he’s made a list of potential gifts that Eren would like, and the list is depressingly short, and every time he looks over the list he takes an irritated pull of his German lager. He thinks that if he gets drunk enough he’ll have a heavenly revelation, an answer on a silver fucking platter.

There’s a commotion at the front door and Jean chokes on his beer at Eren’s voice. “Babe? You home?”

Slamming the beer down on the kitchen table he grabs the paper, looks around to hide the incriminating list that would most certainly prove that he is a _Bad_ _Boyfriend_ , capitals and all.

“Jean?”

T-minus seven seconds till Eren’s arrival in the kitchen, he’s got to find somewhere to put the shitty list shit, shit fuuuuuck.

He stuffs the small pad of paper in his mouth as Eren rounds the corner to the kitchen. Like an idiot. Why didn’t he just stuff it in his pocket? Jesus Christ.

The look of relief on Eren’s face makes the tastes of the paper worsens, and makes him feel like shit. He can probably avoid a lot of humiliation by just asking but the soar taste stops him from doing so, and whether or not it’s the paper or his guilt is up for interpretation.

“Hey, so I bought some of that parsley from that health food store you like?” Here Eren holds up a bag full of items, some of which Jean assumes is going to be used for one of Eren’s many meals that he swears is gods given gift to the earth.

“It may be healthy but I have no idea why you would even bother, that place is a fucking rip off; but anyway I was thinking if you’re not busy tomorrow I could cook us some spaghetti?”

While Eren went about Jean’s kitchen he tries to discretely chew the paper; he almost feels like gagging numerous times during Eren’s tirade. He can taste the ink on his tongue. God it better not get on his teeth.

“Also I was planning on going to Armin’s place after this and you know how shitty his place is for reception so I’ll call you later tonight that okay?”

Shit, he’s waiting for an answer.

He swallows the paper and coughs into his hand, tries to play it off as a dry throat. Eren continues to multi task, putting away groceries and taking out glasses.

“Yeah, it’s cool. So what’s the plan till then?”

A glass of water is put in front of him and before Eren’s hand can get out of reach he grabs it and kisses the wrist, muttering a ‘thanks’ at Eren’s blushing face.

“Remember you promised to help me put up Christmas stuff tomorrow. I’ll put the channel with the fire log on and make a Christmas playlist on my iTunes while we decorate.”

Believe it or not Jean was really looking forward to it. When he was young the holiday decor was of a more minimalist design.

Smiling, Eren leans down and gives Jean a quick kiss. “I’m really looking forward to it. No matter how much holiday music drives me nuts.”

Jean flicks him in the stomach and tells him to get back to work.

At the door Jean holds Eren saddle bag as he tries to put on his various winter attire. Noticing how full it is he thinks that maybe it would be better if he could get a backpack instead, because at least those would distribute the weight better Jesus Christ what is _in this thing?_

He takes a quick peek as Eren finishes up zipping his jacket, his back turned away from Jean.  He frowns at the green tights curled up in the corner of his bag under his tablet. Green tights? Why would Eren have green tights?

Slowly he closes the bag, and when Eren turns, he hands the bag back to Eren with a forced smile, which Eren returns two fold.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Eren stands there for a moment before he pulls Jean down into an intense kiss, licking into his mouth and letting his hands wander down his sides. This happens sometimes; when Eren feels something is amiss he’ll try to fix it with passion and might, which works about 99% of the time.

Jean takes hold of Eren’s scarf, tugs it to get him closer. His woolen cloth coat is scratchy against his bare skin as Eren lifts his arms to put around Jean’s neck, his hands in his hair and tugging, making Jean shudder and take hold of Eren’s ass, squeezing it through the tight denim pants Eren likes to wear.

The kiss stops. Jean has his eyes closed and is wondering why Eren would stoop so low as to kiss him and rub him and leave him half hard but when he opens his eyes Eren looks bewildered with something.

“You taste weird.”

His back tightens but he schools his face to remain calm, “What’re talking about?”

“Did you buy and eat any of the shitty health food cereal, the one that tastes like cardboard?”

Sweat rolls down his back, and he shakes his head “I’ll make sure to use mouthwash before I make out with you next time.”

Eren just grins, untangling himself from Jean, and then kissing him one more time before heading out the door.

Mikasa’s place is flawless and straight out of a Home Sense magazine, like usual, with a yoga mat freshly tucked away in the corner. Mikasa has yet to change out of her halter and elastic shorts, a fresh glean of sweat still on her. Her abs make Jean feel a little self-conscious.

But he’s here for advice on Eren so he should stop staring at her stomach and just fucking get on with it.

“I don’t know what you want from me Jean.”

“I want and idea for what to get Eren! You’re his sister, just a clue?”

He’s kicked out with an excuse that Mikasa has to clean her already flawless apartment. He stands on her doorstep eyes wide; did he just get physically hauled out of her apartment?

“Tch, fine then.” While he’s walking back to the elevators they open. He figures it good timing until he sees Armin walk out of it. When their eyes meet Armin freezes in place, hands clenching at his sides.

Jean looks on with a raised brow, “I thought you and Eren were hanging out at your place?”

His blond companion gives a high pitched laugh. “Yeah, I just needed- um, something from Mikasa’s. I told Eren to wait at my place.”

Armin is a terrible liar and Jean knows this; Armin knows this; everybody that knows Armin knows this, so whatever the smaller boy is trying to hide is sending red flags up in his head.

But instead, he relaxes his posture, and leaves it be. “Yeah, okay.”

Walking out of the lobby he can’t help but feel that something is slightly off, but he commits to the fact that it’s paranoia, ugly and rearing its head. That Armin’s shifty eyes and twitching hands have nothing to do with anything. That Eren really is waiting at the blonde’s place. That he is where he says he is.

As he walks home he can’t help but think that it’s definitely dropped a few degrees.

Eren comes by the next day as promised, and Jean is still gift-less. He supposes that if he wasn’t so goddamn distracted he would have found a present by now, one that would make Eren smile soft and sweet, one that they would share a kiss over because Jean is such a thoughtful fucking boyfriend and clearly put a lot of time and thought into the present.

But he _was_ distracted, thinking about Armin’s appearance at Mikasa’s building, the green tights in Eren’s leather messenger bag.

It’s unjustified paranoia, he’s just fucking nuts.

Eren goes about making the promised spaghetti while Jean puts obnoxious holiday music on, scrolls through his channels for the infamous holiday fire log. He still feels subdued; his mind is loaded with questions that are making him feel like a piece of shit for not trusting Eren.

Eren isn’t the type of person to cheat. When he devotes himself to something, or someone, it’s wholly, with reckless abandon.

Frustration wells up in him, bones shaking for no other reason other than his wild imagination. Beer and liquor will not fix this, as much as he wishes it would.

Instead he glares at the crackling fire log on the TV and decides for a shower. The shower was always good for helping him calm down, figure out his problems; his quiet place.

He pops his head into the kitchen. “I’m going to take a shower, be back quick.”

The shower does help somewhat, ridding Jean of sore and weary muscles after hours of fruitless shopping. The shower is a really good place to calm down, why didn’t he think of doing so before?

Rubbing his hair free of suds he screams as the shower curtain is pushed back, Eren standing there naked.

His boyfriend raises his eyebrow at Jean, and Jean, no explanation, reaches out and pushes it back down. Eren’s brows are far too smug.

He glares at him through the steam, noticing the discarded clothes on the floor. “What do you think you are doing?” He feels this is a necessary question.

The look Eren shoots him bring him back to his early days of high school, when Eren was too unimpressed with Jean’s taunts for the day to throw down.

“I’m joining you dummy.” Twenty-four and he still use the insult ‘dummy.’ What was this Elementary school?

And he loves this fucker.

While Jean laments, Eren steps into the tub, pulls the shower curtain back with gusto, and rubs Jean hair free of the remaining suds.

He wants to complain because this is very unlike Eren; to wash Jean’s hair voluntarily is odd and out of the norm, but the soft caresses are proving to be hard to argue with, and instead of trying to be snarky about the action he lets out a tiny moan of appreciation.

“Please don’t stop.” It’s hell to get Eren to even rub his shoulders; he’s not going to take this for granted.

Eren doesn’t say anything, but Jean can feel him get closer, feels the heat Eren is emitting and can feel his shoulders tense from the closeness.

For the second time he asks, “What are you doing?” his voice is shaky and quiet and instead of answering Eren simply gets closer, reaches around to hold him by the waist, starts kissing and biting at his neck and back.

“What-“ Eren slides his hand down to stroke Jean’s half hard cock, while the other rubs against his chest.

“I’m not going to burn the apartment down, I turned the stove off.” The smile he feels against his back makes him peeved but the way that Eren continues to fondle him leaves him panting in its place, the steam from the shower making it harder to see or breath.

Eren is rubbing against Jean, and because this is happening Jean bends over to place his hands against the tiled wall away from the spray of the shower. The ache between his legs doesn’t let up with Eren’s slow strokes, and when he lets go Jean lets out a low whine, impatient and _wanting_.

“Pretty eager, aren’t you?”

“You started this.”

“I also intend to finish it.”

Something cool presses between his cheeks, making him whimper and press back wantonly. He stretches easily, having only had sex the night before. Soon enough Eren has two fingers in, Jean greedy and eager for the feeling of being full. He may not bottom often but he enjoys the feeling of letting go and letting someone else pamper and prepare him. Eren is good at taking the reins when the situation calls for it.

Jean lets out a loud stuttering moan, hopes the music on his computer and the shower is loud enough to drown them out.

The pressure of two fingers is replaced with a third, twisting and turning Jean into a writhing mess. Eren presses open mouth kisses on his back and neck, sucking wet hickey’s that he’ll have to cover with a scarf for the next few days.

The fingers leave him, making him frown and try to glare at Eren from over this shoulder, but what he sees instead of the expected impish grin is a hazy look of lust, making Jean choke on his words.

Exchanging furtive glances, Eren lines himself, rubbing his cock between Jean’s ass, teasing, before aiming towards his stretched hole.

The head breaches him, making Jean bite his lip, letting out a low keen like an animal in heat. He feels pathetic for wanting his so bad, for wanting to be fucked rough and for wanting Eren to pound and abuse his prostate. He stifles his shouts, trying to keep his voice down because it’s _humiliating_ and for some reason he has the toughest time looking at Eren after but Eren loves it and-

“Be loud baby, come on.” Eren coos in his ear, before licking the shell, nibbling on the lobe. Jean gasps and sobs at the sensation.

Inch by agonizing inch, Eren pushes in, panting and moaning, whispering dirty praises between the slopes of Jean’s shoulder blades. Each praise from Eren causes the pressure behind his hips to build.

Once he fully seats himself in Jean, Eren stills. They’re both shaking, little quivers jolting throughout each other’s bodies. Jean wants nothing more than Eren to bring him to his peak fast, hard, explosive, but unless they’ve abstained for weeks, a nice hard fuck is out of the question.

Instead Eren goes slow, touches Jean with even slower strokes. Gently angles himself against Jean’s prostate, making him tremble as he tries to keep him steady.

“Fuck me harder goddamnit.” Jean growls out.

“Slow and steady wins the race, horse face.”

Eren accentuates the insult with a hard thrust, almost knocking Jean’s head against the tiled wall and making him stutter. “F-fuck, ah… Ah!” Another thrust.

“I love your voice, fuck, the way you sound when I have my cock buried in your ass.”

“Eren-“ Jean’s thighs are shaking, he can feel his climax climbing, his toes curling and cramping, but he pushes back with each hard little thrust.

Skin wet and slapping against each other Eren starts to jack Jean off faster, starts thrusting quicker the closer they are.

Eren’s hand speeds up even more and Jean is balancing on his numb toes, a tight coil of pleasure where his lover is driving into and stroking him.

Right before it hits he takes hold of the hand Eren has on Jean’s hip, gripes it tight and raises it to his mouth to bite at the palm, whimpering around the skin.

“Ah!”

“F-fuck Jean-“ Eren thrusts a few more times before stilling, biting down on Jean’s neck, creating a row of teeth marks matching the ones on Eren’s palm of his left hand.

Coming down from his high Jean takes note of the ache in his thighs, the sting in his shoulder. That bite mark is going to hurt for days, and he wouldn’t be able to see it without blushing profusely.

He was going to have a tough time having a shower without thinking about this incident, too.

That night, with Eren sprawled out and snoring lightly, Jean can’t help but feel that the shower sex was some kind of diversion. Jean is aware that he has been distracted, what with the trying to find Eren a gift, and then with Eren saying he would be _somewhere_ with _someone_ and that someone being _not_ with Eren, and being a shitty liar about it. And don’t forget about the green tights.

Jean turns to stare at Eren’s sleeping face. The fucker was always a deep sleeper, lying down then falling asleep almost five minutes later. For most of Jean’s life he’s had trouble getting his brain to turn off.

During elementary school it was the boogie man; high school it was the nuclear fallout of his parents’ marriage, university it was this weird thing between him and Eren _along_ with trying to declare a major.

Now it’s this stupid paranoia, this thought that Eren isn’t being faithful.

He turns towards Eren fully, taking him into his chest and kissing the crown of his head. He loves Eren too much to really believe any of that. Eren doesn’t cheat, never has, and never will; always thought adulterers were scum, so he really has nothing to worry about.

Kissing his hair again he tries to settle down, his cheek to the top of Eren’s head and grumbles when he feels an odd uncomfortable itching. When he scrapes at his face he finds something metallic, shiny and reflecting against his hand.

Glitter?

Something suspiciously like cardiac arrest happens within his chest.

Breakfast is a silent affair, what with Eren’s general hate for the AM, and Jean’s running thoughts.

When Eren leaves he gives Jean a frown and asks if he’s okay, if something is on his mind. 

‘Of course there is’ he wants to shout, ‘where the hell have you been going recently?’ he wants to scream even more. Fucking glitter?

Eren leaves Jean with a chaste kiss on the lips and a pointed stare. Reassuring him, Jean squeezes his arm and wishes Eren well. The closed door makes him shake.

Despite the glitter, despite the being somewhere where he’s not, despite the green tights, Jean still wants to find Eren a present; a really good one. He wants a present that Eren sees and knows he wants no one else but Jean.

Today he will find that gift, even if he has to rip it out of some old woman’s cold wrinkly hands.

Hours later Jean is eating his words. The sidewalks are covered in black and grey slush, having snowed days ago, and he’s slipped on it six different times coming out of shops. One of the times which he accidently kicked up snow into an old woman’s tote bag, and almost got beat down with a large sack of empty bottles.

One more mall, he says, just to get out of the hell that is slush city. By transit it takes Jean an hour and fifteen to get to one he hasn’t gone to yet in his adventure.

This one is far more crowded than the last, he contemplates, but he’s on a mission, and he plans to see it through.

Jesus fucking Christ it’s hot in here.

Another hour in and he’s probably lost 70% of the liquid in his body by sweating.

It’s not like he’s running or anything; he’s taking things at a reasonable pace, checking every nook and cranny of any store that catches his eye.

People jostle him from left and right, bumping into him and walking past him. What’s their problem? Can’t they see that he’s trying to shop here? Why are people so rude? He has to deal with their shit along with god awful Mariah Carrey Christmas album that he’s been hearing since November first. Everything is just driving him crazy.

A headache is forming between his eyes and he pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing Christmas in general. The cheer, the music, the commercialism; all of it, just… fuck all of it, he ruminates.

He bets he could probably find the perfect gift if the mall wasn’t full of people going fucking nuts.

This mall is big, has three levels of shops and bullshit and Jean is ten seconds from punching a crying toddler. His headache is only worsening, and Jean is on his last legs, minute away from throwing in the towel and just getting Eren some Star Trek shot glasses and a handmade coupon book of sexual favours.

God, he hates everyone in his mall, hates the old people, the parents, the youths; even the too happy fucks that have to dress up as elves and continue the belief that some fat fuck breaks into your house to leave weirdly specific gifts and eat your food.

Awarding himself with a break, Jean goes to one of the five Starbucks in the large mall. Once coffee is running through his veins he can start again; or maybe he’ll become jittery and exasperated, who knows.

All he knows is that he needs to sit down and take a goddamn breather, maybe do a little people watching while he’s at it, get some ideas from some of the other mall goers.

There’s a father with a four year old, maybe five, talking to two elves. They play their part convincingly, getting on the child’s level to spew out whatever nonsense that will make the boy happiest.

Jean never used to be like this, worn out and heated. He pretty sure that somewhere along the way, somewhere between his parents not talking to each other and then screaming at each other the next he’s lost the happy glow of Christmas.

The little boy starts to laugh, and the father gives his child a look so lovingly that Jean thinks his throat tightens at the scene. He feels a little bad at wanting to hit the toddler earlier.

The two elves responsible for the happy and laughing boy high-five each other and give the kid a hug.

It’s a little cute he thinks as he sips his coffee.

The exchange ends with the elves waving, the father holding the boys hand as he checks his wrist watch, and the elves turning to leave. Jean spits out his coffee, the warm liquid dribbling down his chin and onto his scarf. He chokes on the latte, hacking loudly and causing several people to turn and look at the poor schmuck choking on the peppermint latte.

Eren looks back at him, covered in holiday garb, holding his elf hat to his head so it doesn’t continue to slide off. He looks like he just witnessed the coming apocalypse, his green eyes ready to pop out of his head. The small elf jacket is limiting his movement, or else Jean assumes Eren would be running in the complete opposite direction of his choking boyfriend.

People continue to mill around them, ignorant to the situation at hand.

‘The situation’ being Eren in the ridiculous elf get up, and Jean stained in coffee and red in the face from lack of oxygen.

Jean doesn’t know if this is the funniest thing to ever happen to him, or the biggest twist of the century, the glitter, the green stockings, and Armin’s avoidance on the subject on Eren’s whereabouts; it all clicks into place.

Relief washes over him, his shoulders falling, his hands unclenching, and his breath catching.

Eren seems to be rooted to the spot, his elf friend giving him an odd look, darting his eyes between the two of them. The other elf seems to get the message, gets the hell out of there, and leaves Eren with a parting look of sympathy.

Making his way over, Jean tries to keep a straight face, but the twitching in the corner of his mouth must give him away, because when he stops in front of Eren he’s getting a glare that could very likely light him on fire. Now he can’t help but smile.

Biting his lip he asks “So what are you doing out of the North Pole?”

Eren smacks him in the arm. The pain is _worth_ it.

“Fuck, I knew you would make fun of me!”

Jean feels the muscles in his face twitching, trying not to laugh, “So this is where you’ve been going? I thought-“

Wait, no, fuck-

“What? What did you think?”

Jean scratches the back of his hand, looking away from Eren’s accusing gaze, “I um- I thought you… were cheating on me?”

“ _What?_ ” Eren shrieks.

Granted, Jean is expecting that reaction, is even expecting the cute little furrowed brow that signifies Eren’s annoyance at Jean’s stupidity; what he is not expecting is the look to morph into one of disappointment.

Taking a step closer Eren gently takes Jean’s hand, a sad expression on his face, “Why would you think that?”

“The fact that you said you would be at Armin’s, then Armin shows up at Mikasa’s, the green tights, the glitter in your hair…”

He lets the sentence fade, giving Eren his explanation for his worries, which were totally justified.

“I got this job so I could afford to buy us tickets to Germany, numb nuts.”

“Oh.” Jean feels a little stupid.

Eren sighs and looks around before tugging on Jean’s arm, “My shift is over now, come on.”

He’s about to say ‘okay’ when he stops, feels a thought forming and pulls Eren back into his arms a little. Giving him a quick kiss to the forehead he says “Hold on a second.” And darts off.

He’s going to give Eren the best Christmas present ever, he deserves a goddamn trophy.

Days later, on Christmas morning, they enjoy their various present from their friends. Jean has put in season one of three of Game of Thrones, a thoughtful present from Armin to Eren, while he wears his ugly Christmas sweater, courtesy of one Mikasa Ackerman. He’s sipping coffee from a quirky looking mug, one of many from they’re friends Krista and Ymir. The Amaretto in the coffee was gifted to him from Bertholdt and Reiner, and the cool little toy helicopter that’s currently whizzing past Jean’s head was from Connie and Sasha. The dinky little tree in the corner now has an assortment of new ornaments, thanks to Marco who thought that Jean could probably use _real_ ornaments, not paper ones.

Eren is still playing with the helicopter when Jean presents him with a smaller looking box, wrapped in plain olive green wrapping paper.

“What’s that?” Eren asks like he doesn’t fucking _know_ Jean had been agonizing over it for the first few weeks.

“You know what it is fucker, open it.”

Giving him a pout Eren goes about trying to land the toy helicopter, ends up taking out a few decorations instead as the thing crashes into the couch cushions but neither of them really care.

Placing the remote down Eren takes hold of Jeans gift, testing the weight by placing it in the middle of his palm then shaking it.

Jean swallows audibly, hoping that Eren will like _this_ gift because it’s nice, it’s pretty like him and he doesn’t have one so it made _sense_ at the time.

Eren rips the paper off in one fell swoop, looks at the plain black box he holds with wide eyes before opening it.

Inside is a watch; silver faced with roman numerals etched into it. Before Jean can ask Eren if he likes it he quickly takes it out of the box and unhooks the claps from the soft black leather. Struggling to put it on Eren swears to himself, biting his lip before he gets it, the watch settling nicely on his wrist, sleek and perfect.

“Do you like it?”

Eren gives him a look, eyes misty and Jean _fucked up I fucked up fuck_ before Eren moves over and kisses him, then litters his face with more kisses.

“It’s fucking beautiful you asshole.” He goes back to kissing his face, giddy and happy and Jean puts his coffee down on the floor to give Eren a proper hug, happy to have at least gotten this one thing right.

Jean vows, as Eren starts lifting up his shirt to kiss at his chest and stomach, that he will buy Eren a gift in fucking June. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas. I am so sorry.


End file.
